


Raise a Little Hell

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley's Fuck Shit Up Jacket (Good Omens), Hijinks & Shenanigans, Implied Relationships, Ineffable Bureaucracy, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nervous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Crowley convinces Aziraphale to help him mess with Gabriel, only to be hoisted by his own petard.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Unleash The Chaos - Zine Fics and Art





	Raise a Little Hell

**Author's Note:**

> My SFW piece for "Unleash the Chaos".

“I ran into your former boss today on Savile Row,” Crowley commented out of the blue. 

They were in Crowley’s flat at the moment. Crowley was lying with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, while they relaxed on the modern leather couch. Aziraphale was so startled by the revelation he about dropped the book he was reading on his partner’s forehead. Recovering quickly, he turned a page as if he didn’t almost fumble his reading material. Crowley was too busy on his mobile to notice. “Well, didn’t _run into_ run into. I saw him come out of a tailor and made myself scarce.” 

“What were you doing on Savile Row? Your idea of ‘bespoke’ is wishing your clothing into existence out of raw firmament.” 

“If you must know, there was an accident on my usual route. Do you want to hear the idea I came up with or not?” 

“Probably not.” 

Crowley pouted, pulling Aziraphale’s book down so he could make eye contact. His serpentine eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What fun are you?”

“I must be some kind of fun. You keep coming around.” Aziraphale leaned forward to give Crowley the softest kiss on his nose. Pushing up his reading glasses that had slipped down, he gave the demon’s red hair a caress. “But I’m afraid causing trouble isn’t my idea of a good time.” 

“Hear me out . . . old Gabe’s having a new suit made. I want to sneak in and mess with it.” 

“Why do you want to cause trouble? We finally have peace and quiet.” 

A restless Crowley shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to better look at Aziraphale. “It’s the way he treated me at your trial.” 

The judging look on Aziraphale’s face softened. “You don’t have to get revenge for my sake.” “

Yes, I do,” Crowley flopped back down, leaning up against Aziraphale’s ample stomach. “Listen, I’ll take you out to dinner every night for a month. Wherever you want to go.” 

That sealed the deal. Aziraphale marked his place in his book and set it aside. “I’m listening.” 

“What would you say to helping me leave a forged love note from Beelzebub in one of the jacket pockets?”

~*~*~

Looking back on it, Aziraphale decided that he shouldn’t have listened. 

He was standing on the pavement beside the Bentley around the corner from Gabriel’s tailor while Crowley rooted around in the boot. Emerging with a triumphant “Ah-ha!” Crowley displayed a navy blue work jacket with reflective orange on the shoulders stretching across the upper back of the coat and silver reflective plastic encircling the ends of the sleeves. He tossed the heavy thing to Aziraphale. “Put that on.” 

Feeling reluctant, Aziraphale complied. The jacket was huge, the sleeves wide even on him and the length almost went to his knees. He felt ridiculous; he probably looked ridiculous. In fact, Crowley standing beside him trying not to break out in laughter only confirmed that he did. 

“They’ll notice the badge, not you.” Crowley was looping a lanyard over his neck as he spoke. On it hung a laminated card with a lot of official-looking nonsense printed on across its front. Aziraphale was not amused. The look he was giving Crowley said he was not enjoying the shenanigans. But Crowley responded with an adoring smile; the kind that made it difficult for Aziraphale to stay upset with him. After all, Crowley has spent millennia causing mischief. It couldn't have been easy to give that up once they were on their own. Aziraphale let out a dramatic sigh, deciding he could go through with it. His part was quite small. He only had to evacuate the humans.

“Follow the script we went over so I can work. They’ll smell gas, but there’s no gas, so don’t worry. I’m not about to harm humans.” 

With an encouraging kiss and a light shove, Crowley sent him off to run interference for the scheme. While Aziraphale got the employees out, he would sneak into the back and place the love letter.

Aziraphale stumbled forward, hesitant, doubting his ability to play a part he felt a sudden nervousness about performing. Turning the corner, he took a deep breath before entering the shop.

Two tailors huddled in a doorway to the back. Behind a sterile white counter stood a clerk. Around him were white displays of neat suits and perfect ties. The tailors were murmuring about the strong smell of gas in the establishment. The clerk was on hold to the gas company. 

He looked Aziraphale over before addressing him as if he didn’t belong in the shop. “May I help you?” 

“Umm . . . Hello. I’m from Eng- . . . British Gas and there has been a gas leak reported in this area. We would appreciate it if you would, umm . . . evacuate your shop for your own safety. We will inform you when it’s safe to return.” 

Although Aziraphale stammered through his speech, the employees believed him. They allowed him to lead them out into the street where the real utility lorries were gathering. A curious crowd of evacuated building occupants was also milling around, trying to determine just what was happening. Police moved them away from the "dangerous" areas for safety and barricades were set up to section off the affected buildings. 

Aziraphale made himself unnoticeable to humanity and fled back to the Bentley. Quickly he stripped off his con man costume. Free of the weight of the jacket, he straightened his tartan bowtie and velvet waistcoat. The distasteful item he dumped in the back seat. Nothing left to do, he waited for Crowley in the passenger seat, fidgeting. 

Meanwhile, Crowley slipped into the backdoor during the ensuing chaos. He rummaged through newly-made suits, finding the one he was looking for. With a grin, he slipped the paper in its pocket. Mission accomplished, he rendezvoused with Aziraphale. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked as they drove back to Soho. 

Aziraphale sighed like a martyr. 

~*~*~

Later, in Heaven, Gabriel preened in front of the mirror in his office, admiring his new clothing. At least something good came out of the world not ending, he mused. A well-made bespoke suit was impossible to find in Heaven. Putting his hands in the pockets, he smiled his brightest grin at his reflection.

“Looking good there. Perfect, like always.” His hand encountered what felt like a piece of paper. “What’s this?”

He pulled out the note, read it then reread it in astonishment. A look of shock registered on his handsome face. Picking up his phone, he rang his assistant. 

“Get me a direct line to Beelzebub!” 

Two minutes later he was in furious conversation with them. 

“What do you mean you didn’t send it?” 

“ _That I didn’t send it, you idiot. Someone’s playing a prank on you._ ” There was a beat before Beelzebub added, “ _Maybe we should meet over dinner to discuss it_.” 

~*~*~

The following Friday, Aziraphale and Crowley strolled leisurely to a café across from the art show they had attended. A nice dinner would round out their enjoyable evening. Aziraphale reached the door first. Leaning in to grab the handle, he looked through the glass straight into the dining room. What he saw gave him pause. Sitting in the back at a table for two were Gabriel and Beelzebub, enjoying a very romantic meal together. There between empty dessert plates, Gabriel’s hand rested on Beelzebub’s. Aziraphale went unnoticed as the two bureaucratic enemies were deep in meaningful conversation. They only had eyes for each other. 

Aziraphale felt like he had been hit upside the head with the flat of his own flaming sword. Stumbling back in shock, he smiled nervously at Crowley. “Let’s dine elsewhere.” 

“What’s wrong with here?” 

Aziraphale’s sky blue eyes flicked to the door. Crowley took that as a cue to peek inside.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Crowley leaned back against the brick exterior of the café in frustration. “Nghhhh! Of all things . . . I can’t believe this!” 

“Well, my dear,” said Aziraphale as they retraced their steps. “This might work to our advantage. If they’re involved with each other, it would be hypocritical to worry about us, correct?” 

Crowley considered this, then responded with a grin. “You’re right. Now we have leverage. An I’ll-keep-your-secret-if-you-leave-us-alone sort of deal. I guess it did work out for the best. Shall we do the Ritz?” 

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, happy they would truly be left alone now. “That would be lovely.” 

Reaching for Crowley’s hand, he affectionately held it all the way back to the Bentley.   



End file.
